I live in a house of grout and tile
Not a square foot of carpet
Not a curtain or drape
Just blinds and shutters
Closed
Dolce Gabbana shades reflect forward
Protect what’s behind
And I cycle
Miles and miles and miles
One way
To another house
Of grout and tile
Call me Hanq 
i lived in a house of grout & tile…in florida…but the insulation you write of tonight…your picture is a great pairing…of the reality on the other side of those blinds…
love the conciseness of this. and the feeling of miles and miles of grout and tile.
Locked inside our houses of tile and grout… every where the same… it’s sad really. Strong images.
Well done……..I can see the house, closed and spare, and feel the bicycle wheels turning…….
Couldn’t have only grout and tile. Have to get on the floor to exercise. But the layers of this read are so good, Henry.
this speaks to me of separation and yet trying to cross that bridge, no matter how far the journey might be… i like
There are walls and windows, and there are walls and windows in the metaphorical sense. I like the crisp language – of something hidden and closed to the world ~
Yes, a parting of ways (means) and too high expectations by one of another…
I like the untold story of two house.
Excellent write, Henry!